
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2204319.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/F, M/M
  Fandom:
      Fairy_Tail
  Relationship:
      Gray_Fullbuster/Loke, Cana_Alberona/Lucy_Heartfilia
  Character:
      Cana_Alberona, Lucy_Heartfilia, Gray_Fullbuster, Loke_(Fairy_Tail)
  Additional Tags:
      Accidental_Voyeurism, No_Plot/Plotless, Inline_with_canon, Plot_What
      Plot/Porn_Without_Plot, Hand_Jobs, Semi-Public_Sex, Quiet_Sex
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-09-11 Words: 2859
****** Listening ******
by tastewithouttalent
Summary
     "Gray’s hand hits Loke’s mouth with more speed than gentleness,
     cutting off the sound of the other boy’s voice and muffling his hiss
     of protest at the action. There’s some incoherent mumbling, the
     redhead’s fingers closing tight on his arm to push his hand away -
     - and there’s a burble of a laugh not ten feet away, and Loke goes
     just as still and silent as Gray." Gray and Loke get caught in a
     compromising position, and Lucy and Cana follow their example.
Gray hears the girls first.
It’s not that he has much of an advantage over Loke, at least not inherently.
All else being equal they would probably hear the approaching footsteps at the
same time, and somewhat more in advance than a few seconds. But all
else isn’t equal; Gray’s got Loke’s shoulder under his lips, and one hand
pushing up at the other boy’s shirt, so Loke is distracted, and with the
whimpering sounds the redhead is making Gray doesn’t hear the voices until
they’re almost on top of them.
Gray’s pulling away before he’s even identified the speakers, before he’s made
it any farther than don’t get caught. Loke’s breath catches at the loss of
contact, and when Gray goes still over him he starts to sit up, pushing himself
up on his elbows from where he was lying across the ground.
“Why are you --”
Gray’s hand hits Loke’s mouth with more speed than gentleness, cutting off the
sound of the other boy’s voice and muffling his hiss of protest at the action.
There’s some incoherent mumbling, the redhead’s fingers closing tight on his
arm to push his hand away -- and there’s a burble of a laugh not ten feet away,
and Loke goes just as still and silent as Gray.
“Don’t you think it’s about time for a break?” That’s unmistakably Cana’s low
purr, even though Gray can’t see anything through the greenery between them.
And the laugh was familiar too, he knows that sound, which means it must be --
“If you say so.” Of course it would be Lucy -- she and Cana are partners, after
all -- but Gray still jerks his head to stare at Loke. He hasn’t moved his
hand, and Loke hasn’t let his wrist go, but neither of them are moving anymore;
Gray’s not sure he’s breathing for fear of being heard, and from how wide his
eyes are Loke has forgotten to blink.
There’s the shift of lips against his palm, words without even the attempt at
sound, and Gray pulls his hand away without looking away from Loke’s
expression. He can’t make out the specifics of the words the redhead is
shaping, but the oh shit expression in the other boy’s eyes is perfectly clear
without coherent words.
Gray doesn’t have a solution to offer. He can hear the sounds of the girls
moving on the other side of the leaves, and what provides a solid barrier to
line-of-sight is no cover at all for sound. Some rational part of him is
desperately searching for a solution, suggesting that they come out and just
admit they were here -- but what are they going to say they were doing, after
all, and besides Loke’s still flushed and breathless and Gray suspects he
doesn’t look much better. Worse, from the way Cana sighs and the clink of metal
against itself, the other two have no intention of leaving anytime soon, which
leaves Gray and Loke trapped in close enough quarters to be uncomfortable, if
they’re not doing anything but waiting for the girls to leave.
Fuck, Gray mouths, and Loke grimaces in agreement. It’s easy enough for Gray to
slide his hand free from under Loke’s shirt but that’s the best he can do;
there’s not enough space for them to untangle their legs, no way to shift so
Gray’s not sprawled on top of Loke, and what was charmingly close quarters
before is nothing but awkward when Gray can’t actually do anything about how
hard he is.
Loke grins first. Gray is still caught in the embarrassed panic of the moment
when the redhead’s face creases into his sun-bright smile, so wide for a breath
Gray isn’t sure he won’t have to clap his hand back over Loke’s mouth to stifle
an audible laugh. The redhead doesn’t, although he is still clearly considering
it when his hand comes up and closes on Gray’s shoulder to pull him down. The
position itself is more suggestive than the touch implies -- Gray’s knees are
fitting in around Loke’s until he’s straddling the redhead’s thigh, and if
Gray’s still hard he can feel Loke is too when he capitulates and relaxes to
press his face in against the other boy’s shoulder. But Loke doesn’t let him
go, lets his fingers slide sideways to settle in against the back of Gray’s
neck, and even with his skin still burning with want that contact is soothing
enough that Gray can shut his eyes, and sigh himself into resignation to
waiting. Maybe it won’t be all that bad, after all.
This time it’s Loke who catches on first.
Gray’s not really paying any attention to the sound of conversation from the
other pair. It seems impolite to listen to what the girls are saying, after
all, and besides he’s more caught up in appreciating the warmth of Loke’s body
while simultaneously getting his mind to shift gears to something more platonic
than where it wants to go. When the coherent words stop he doesn’t notice
beyond being somewhat relieved that he won’t overhear something he shouldn’t,
and he’s too busy steadying his own breathing to notice when Cana’s catches too
fast. So his first hint is that the idle shift of Loke’s fingers against the
back of his neck stills and he can feel tension run all through the body
underneath him.
He pushes away by an inch. Loke’s not looking at him; his head is tipped,
staring at the leaves hiding them from view as if he can look straight through
them, and his mouth has dropped open like he can’t remember how to close it. He
looks shocked, eyes wide and disbelieving; Gray can feel his forehead crease in
confusion, reaches out to touch Loke’s cheek and get his attention for a silent
question.
It’s at that point that there’s a moan from the other side of the cover, and
it’s Gray’s turn to forget how to blink. He doesn’t look up -- his gaze just
drops out of focus on Loke’s shoulder as all his attention focuses on
the sounds coming from the other side of the leaves, reforms all his
assumptions about what the girls are doing. It occurs to him that he probably
shouldn’t be able to hear the others’ breathing from the distance they are at,
that Cana is purring incoherent vocalization on too many of her breaths, that
there’s really no other sound that damp catch could be but kissing.
Oh shit. Gray doesn’t realize he’s shaped the words until Loke looks back up at
him, shakes his head furiously and brings a finger to his lips to shush him.
Gray shuts his mouth in instant obedience but now he’s looking at Loke, he
can’t make himself look away. He can see the color of Loke’s eyes flicker
darker when Lucy whines faintly, can see the sharp inhale the other boy takes
at the low laugh from Cana. Gray’s starting to blush, himself, but if there
wasn’t a way out before there really isn’t now, they can’t just topple out of
the cover and announce they’ve been here this whole time.
“Gray.”
Gray wouldn’t be able to catch the sound of his name if he weren’t staring at
Loke’s face, if he didn’t see the redhead’s throat work around the sound of his
name. Loke is flushed too, his cheeks going pink like he’s developing a
sunburn, and for a moment Gray has the wild hope that the other boy has some
suggested solution to their situation.
Then Loke rocks up against his hip, and Gray realizes that the solution Loke
has is nothing like the one he was hoping for.
“No way,” Gray mouths, shaking his head as hard as he can manage. “No way,
Loke.”
Loke raises his eyebrows in disbelief, the motion punctuated perfectly by
another moan from what sounds like Cana this time. He slides his hand down
between them, angles his wrist in between his legs and Gray’s, and Gray knows
he should stop him but he can’t move quickly enough, or maybe he just can’t
make up his mind to stop before Loke’s fingers curl and press in against him
through his clothes.
He thought he was in the process of cooling down, but Loke’s barely touching
him before Gray’s skin is flaring hot and responsive, as if the delay from
their initial interlude only wound him tighter with anticipation. His mouth
drops open on a groan he only just holds back, his head tips forward as his
vision flickers out of importance, and Loke pushes harder, grinds his palm in
against Gray without even bothering to unfasten his jeans.
“Come on,” Loke breathes, the words soft but still so clearly audible they send
a shiver of panic down Gray’s spine. “It’ll be fine, they’re doing the same
thing.”
“Shut up,” Gray hisses, but it comes out louder than he intends, loud enough
that they both stop moving, glance up like they’ll have any visible warning if
the girls come forward. But either it was too soft to be heard, or Cana drowned
him out with the humming laughter as she does...whatever it is she is doing to
make Lucy whimper like that. Gray starts to flush again, self-conscious with
how hot his skin is going, but Loke doesn’t seem to have any compunctions at
all. The redhead echoes Lucy’s whine, if more softly, rocks up hard so he
grinds himself against Gray’s leg and pins his hand in hard against the other
boy.
“It’s fine,” Loke repeats, if more softly than the first time. “It’s fine, come
on Gray, do you want me to stop?”
Gray flinches at the idea, shoves in instinctively against the pressure of
Loke’s fingers, and the other boy grins and lets his hand slide off Gray’s
neck.
“Or I’ll take care of myself,” he teases, or threatens, Gray’s not sure. The
intention doesn’t matter anyway; in either case he seems entirely serious, has
worked his other hand down between them before Gray has even processed his
options.
He offers a hissed rejection, grabs at Loke’s elbow to pull his hand free, but
the redhead doesn’t even slow down, just rocks up against Gray again and blinks
his gaze into further shadows that have nothing to do with the dappled cover of
the leaves. Gray hesitates for another moment, a heartbeat of rationality like
a breath of air before diving underwater; then Lucy moans again, a throaty
almost-wail, and Loke’s eyelashes flutter around an unvoiced echo, and Gray’s
resistance goes with the last of the cool in his blood.
It’s still awkward. The angle is wrong, it’s hard for Gray to get his balance
and still leave enough room to fit his hand down between them, and Loke’s
reaching fingers are doing nothing at all to help his concentration. But Loke’s
jeans are open already, at least, that helps a little, and after a minute the
other boy brings his other hand around so he can get Gray’s clothes half-off to
grant himself better access and both of them somewhat more flexibility. Gray
doesn’t care much; he’s given in to the want, the specifics are no longer
particularly important as long as he can chase down the sparking electricity
running under his skin. He’s not thinking about what Lucy and Cana are doing -
- he’s not thinking about much of anything, actually -- but Loke’s mouth is
open on that unvoiced moan, his eyes are out-of-focus like he’s watching
something more interesting than the clear blue of the sky overhead, and Gray
can see his whole face shudder warm and responsive every time there’s a
particularly loud noise from the other pair. Usually Gray would have his mouth
against the other boy’s collarbone, suck a bruise in against the pale skin or
just drag his teeth in gentle friction over the skin, but this time he doesn’t
lean down for the sake of watching the ripples of voyeuristic pleasure shimmer
over Loke’s features. There’s a clear distinction in the other boy’s reactions.
Gray can see it, watches the tremble of his lip and the shake of repressed
sound in his throat when Gray gets his fingers properly around his length and
strokes up over him, but the flutter of his eyes is separate, feeding back to
the throaty murmurs from the other two like he’s borrowing the reaction from
the others’ bodies. Gray can hear the hiccup of air in Loke’s throat as he
catches back a more vocal response, can feel his own breath sticking in his
chest as one of Loke’s hands slides over him while the other drags idle and
unthought over the shivering tension in his stomach. Gray has to bite his lip
to keep his response contained, thinks for a wild moment that he hasn’t
succeeded before he realizes the groan he hears is Cana’s and not his.
Loke is starting to shake, Gray can feel the rhythm of his strokes going off-
pattern and jerky, but that’s far from his biggest concern. He’s listening to
the redhead’s breathing, trying to catch the sound of Loke’s gasps over the
sound of the girls to make sure he can’t, and it’s starting to draw closer to
audible than he likes. Loke’s panting, his eyes are entirely shut now, and
after one more attempt at a shaky stroke he lets Gray go entirely to close his
fingers at the other boy’s hips, like he’s trying to pull Gray down closer or
lift himself up higher. His head tips back, his features draw tight in focus,
and Gray just catches the sound of his inhale as he sucks in a deep lungful of
air.
One hand is caught under him, supporting his weight over the other boy, and the
other is occupied in jerking fast over Loke’s length, there’s no way for Gray
to get his fingers up to catch the sound he can see trembling in the other
boy’s throat. But it’s easy to lean forward, drop his weight down over Loke’s
chest, and Gray gets his mouth in against Loke’s lips just before the moan
slips into audibility against his tongue. His mouth muffles the sound, keeps
Loke relatively quiet even as he shudders and comes over Gray’s fingers; Gray
stays still, catches the other boy’s groan against his lips and his shivering
motion against his body until Loke’s breathing has steadied and he’s relaxed
back against the ground.
When Gray pulls back Loke lets his hips go, is replacing his hold before he’s
even mouthed thank you up at the other boy. Gray flashes a grin of response
before he closes his lips around his own vocal reaction, tips his head down and
shuts his eyes so he can focus on breathing as silently as he can manage
against the pull of Loke’s fingers over him. The heat comes back almost as
quickly as it did the first time, washing out into Gray’s blood until he feels
like he’s melting, until the tension in the arm supporting him over Loke feels
like it belongs to someone else, until he can’t remember why he needs to
breathe quietly, only that he does.
“Gray,” Loke hisses, and Gray opens his eyes, forces his gaze into focus on the
redhead’s face. Loke’s cheeks are still flushed warm and pink, his lips are
still parted around his breathing, but he’s starting to smile, soft and easy
and amused, and when he sees Gray focused on him his smile slips wider.
“Stay quiet,” Loke says, and Gray can feel a bubble of laughter in his throat,
forms his mouth around the feel of the amusement if not the sound.
I know, he mouths, and Loke twists his wrist and presses in with his thumb, and
Gray shuts his eyes and lets the heat of pleasure drown out the last of his
self-awareness.
The whole space is quiet when Gray pays attention to his hearing again. He can
just make out the panting sound of Cana or Lucy breathing, he can’t tell which,
and Loke’s breathing hard but silently, utterly quiet even when he slides his
hand free and reaches out to wipe his hand mostly clean against the grass. It’s
harder to get their clothes back in place; after a few minutes of one-handed
fumbling Loke pushes Gray’s hand away and slides the other boy’s jeans up
himself with the advantage of both his hands. By the time the girls’
conversation starts back up everything is ostensibly back in place, both of
them only a little sticky and sweaty for their trouble. Gray collapses back
down against Loke, the position much more comfortable now that his skin isn’t
burning with want, and the other boy’s arm comes up around him so Loke’s
fingers can fit into the small of his back.
“That was fun,” Loke murmurs against Gray’s hair, softly enough the words are
nearly lost to the louder feminine voices.
“It was not,” Gray mumbles right back, but he doesn’t sound convincing even to
himself, and when Loke chuckles faintly against his ear he starts to smile into
the other boy’s shoulder.
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